


After All This Time

by theeleventhfangirl



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, I am incapable of writing anything other than fluff, M/M, Magnus Bane-centric, Multi, a lot of fluff, rating for suggestive scenes ish?? idk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-24 16:55:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15634836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theeleventhfangirl/pseuds/theeleventhfangirl
Summary: Magnus has a floor to ceiling, wall to wall shelf in his closet, filled with shoes spanning styles across countries and centuries. Each pair has a purpose, a story. Memories of certain decades, events, people. They aren’t just an accessory to his already stunning outfits – they’re keepsakes, mementos, memories that come back in pieces, documenting his life throughout the years.aka little snippets of Magnus' life





	After All This Time

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so glad to be doing the shhiatusbang!! I wrote this fic for the last bang but I had a service trip to go to and also my mom used my laptop and didn't save my draft and I lost like 70% of it so this is my second attempt 5000 words is so many words ahhhh
> 
> also I considered trying to change the language per time frame but I was kidding myself that's too much work
> 
> and there's so little diversity in relationships because I'm just working off what I've seen in the show so
> 
> shoutout to Cheerios for being my support system for writing this
> 
> [taupefox59](http://www.taupefox59.tumblr.com) is my beta (currently only for the first half because I procrastinated until the last minute but they will be editing a bit later!!!) and all mistakes are my fault because I am bad and also I have a lot of opinions

Magnus has a floor to ceiling, wall to wall shelf in his closet, filled with shoes spanning styles across countries and centuries. Each pair has a purpose, a story. Memories of certain decades, events, people. They aren’t just an accessory to his already stunning outfits – they’re keepsakes, mementos, memories that come back in pieces, documenting his life throughout the years.

* * *

_Ragnor’s ????th Birthday Party_

In true Ragnor fashion, Magnus had received an invitation for his annual wow-I’m-getting-really-old-and-the-age-doesn’t-really-matter-anymore party mere hours before the actual event began. And, well, that meant Magnus couldn’t really be blamed if he showed up fashionably late (in true Magnus fashion). In a decently unfashionable manner (yes, he was blaming this entire situation and outfit on Ragnor). 

“What are you _wearing?_ ” 

“‘Hello, Magnus. Welcome to my birthday celebration, Magnus. I’m so happy to see you, Magnus. I’ve really missed you, Magnus, otherwise known as my greatest, bestest friend in the universe. You know, the friend who I haven’t seen or contacted since I decided to screw off to the other side of the planet four decades ago.’” 

“Those are atrocious.” 

“Excuse you, these shoes are designer, and are very important to my entire look.” 

Ragnor raised an eyebrow, giving him an unimpressed stare. (But really, when has Ragnor _ever_ looked impressed with any of his life choices?) To be fair, the leopard print oxfords were not the most stunning pair of shoes he had ever owned, and probably were not meant to be paired with the striped suit he was wearing, but he was Magnus Bane. He could make anything work (okay, mostly. Mostly everything). 

“You need to leave. Now. Right this second. I can’t be associated with you. Why did I ever decide I should be associated with you? What was I thinking? Was I drunk? When did I do this?” Ragnor sighed into his scotch, looking morose. 

“About a century ago, which means it’s too late for you to pretend you don’t know me now. Also, I am offended. I will have you know that I am a delight, and that my company is well sought-after.” Magnus turned his nose up at his companion, then snagged Ragnor’s drink and downed it all in one go. 

Before Ragnor could respond (with something that no doubt the entire party’s attendants would be affronted by), someone collapsed into his side and said, “What are you wearing?” 

Ragnor made a floundering, confused gesture at Catarina, clearly signaling his agreement. 

Magnus clutched at his chest in mock agony. “Evidently, neither of you two can appreciate fashion.”

“Evidently, you need your eyes checked. If only you knew someone who was a medical professional - oh, wait!” Catarina summoned two glasses of wine, handing one to Ragnor. “Cheers.” 

“Thank you, my dear.” 

“That was not meant for you, it was meant for me. This is to celebrate me surviving another year of your grouchiness,” Catarina sighed, taking a sip, before adding, “and Magnus’ poor decisions.”

“Mr. Grouchypants gets wine, but I don’t get any?” Magnus pouted at her. 

“You know full well that doesn’t work on me, and I’m not entirely convinced you’re sober. I’m certainly not going to give you more alcohol, considering how you can insist that this outfit is appropriate to wear in public.” She paused, then downed the glass in one go. “Yes, _especially_ Magnus’ decisions.”

Magnus could only sputter indignantly.

The rest of the night followed in much the same fashion (pun intended). In retaliation, Magnus wore the same shoes to the following three of Ragnor’s birthday celebrations. 

Ragnor stopped inviting him to any social event, period, for a decade and a half afterwards, but it was so worth it. 

* * *

_May 28th, 2018; Magnus’ penthouse_

“That looks beautiful, sweet pea.” 

Madzie clapped her hands together excitedly, giving Magnus a bright smile before turning back around and squeezing more dye onto her (no longer white) sneakers. 

Catarina had gone to restock some of her (and Magnus’, after much negotiation) potion supplies, leaving Madzie in Magnus’ care for the day. Currently, the two of them were on the floor, newspapers spread out on the floor in front of them so they could dye their shoes without staining and damaging the hardwood floor. Magnus was in one of Alec’s sweaters, refusing to even entertain the idea of dye getting on any of his clothes. Besides, it was a black sweater. Alec owned, like, twenty of them, and it wasn’t going to be affected. Even if it (miraculously) did, it could do with some colour. In fact, Alec’s entire wardrobe could do with some colour.

(Madzie was also in one of Alec’s sweaters, with the sleeves rolled up. Very, very rolled up. Pretty much halved, actually. Magnus had meant to resize it for her, but she just looked so cute drowning in all that fabric.)

Madzie’s strategy was, it seemed, to put as much colour as she possibly could fit onto the small (very small) surface area of her shoes. Swirls of pink and blue mixed to make purple, green flecks were sprinkled across in no particular pattern whatsoever, and occasionally yellow and red peeked out behind the other colours.

Magnus had a slightly more controlled plan. 

Alec had never been to Pride before, and Magnus was ecstatic to be able to introduce him to the event. However, knowing his boyfriend’s wardrobe, and knowing what the parade typically looked like, he felt that the Shadowhunter needed some pieces to spruce up his look for the occasion. While draping Alec in nothing but a rainbow flag may be a tad much for Alec (oh, how Magnus wished he could see that!), colourful shoes would (probably) be acceptable (he also wished to dress Alec like someone he had seen at pride two years previous: in nothing but roller skates and three knee-length socks. Guess where the sock goes). Next to Madzie’s colour bomb were the two pairs of shoes Magnus had designed. One pair was carefully dyed pink, purple, and blue. The other, rainbow. 

When Madzie decided that her shoes were acceptably filled with colour, Magnus dried them all with a wave of his hand, and she eagerly put them on before immediately sprinting across the penthouse. Alec came home that night to the two of them wearing their new shoes, Madzie trying to teach Magnus (her version of) ballet, Magnus beckoning him to put on his new shoes and join them. 

* * *

_February 14th, 1869; a dance studio_

The room was a flurry of noise. Light metal hitting wood echoed throughout as the class attempted to master the sequence being taught. The instructor walked around, correcting positions and offering praise, giving the immortal couple an approving nod as she moved passed them. 

“It seems that we are quite good at this, darling,” Camille called over her shoulder. 

“Are you really surprised?” Magnus slowed his movements before coming to a stop, leaning in close to her ear before whispering conspiratorially, “A vampire, good at a dance based on speed and sound?” 

“And you? What’s your excuse for being good at tap dance?” 

“Why, I thought you knew that. I’m just brilliant at everything.” Magnus winked at his lover, got back into position, and they started the sequence again. 

\- 

_November 21st, 1971; The Century Plaza Hotel_

Whispers followed him around the ballroom. 

Magnus ignored them, held his head high, and kept walking. 

_Click-clack. Click-clack. Click-clack._

He looked stunning tonight, if he did say so himself. A perfectly tailored suit, hair swept to the side, bowtie that he had tied himself, thank you very much, and patent leather four-inch pumps. 

“Way to make a statement, Bane,” a dry voice said from his left. 

“I always make a statement, Santiago. I am the statement. I am the statement. These are merely the accessories.” 

Raphael’s snark was in full force tonight. “Technically, they are accessories. Technically and literally. Your metaphor needs work.”

“Life imitates art, my dear Raphael. And you know full well that I look amazing tonight, you’re just upset that this makes me even taller than I usually am.”

Raphael rolled his eyes. “Not true.” 

Magnus raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Well then, it certainly won’t bother you if I inform you that I’m now half a foot taller than you with these on.” 

Raphael merely pressed his lips together and glared at him. 

Magnus grabbed two glasses of red wine from a passing waiter, discreetly magicking Raphael’s into blood. Raphael gave him a grateful look, lightly sipping from the glass. 

Halfway through the night, Magnus requested that they find a seat, rather than stand along the sides of the room.

“Oh, do your feet hurt?” Raphael’s voice was full of fake concern.

“I hope you choke.” 

* * *

_Does it really matter when? They’ve been domestic since the dawn of time; Magnus’ penthouse_

“Ah!” 

Alec woke up to cold feet pressed up against his legs. He turned to the nightstand to look at the clock, which told him it was way-too-early-in-the-morning o’clock, and made a sad face (pout. Alec would never admit it, but it was a pout) at his boyfriend. 

“My feet are cold.”

“Yes, I noticed.” 

Magnus groaned as Alec moved his (very warm) legs away from his (very cold) feet. He quickly chased after them, prompting Alec to move further and further away from him... and then fall off the bed. 

Apparently some things were too difficult for even Shadowhunters to do in the morning. 

“Well, at least I’m awake now.” 

The blanket was unceremoniously ripped off of Magnus, who gave another groan before slippers were shoved onto his feet. 

“There.” 

Magnus grinned as he looked down at the Doctor Strange slippers that he had gotten after forcing Alec to watch every movie in the Marvel Cinematic Universe. Alec had his Spiderman pair as well, dragging his feet as he went to go make coffee. And strive to make edible food. 

Magnus had started introducing Alec to mundane pop culture, and the best part was introducing him to all the LGBT characters. From Captain Holt from Brooklyn Nine-Nine (who, Magnus had been quick to point out, was very similar to Alec, and Alec had clapped back with Gina Linetti) to the Fab Five in Queer Eye, it had been exceedingly rewarding to show Alec the queer representation that was out there. 

And to have his own Tan France moment, of course (but that’s a story for another time). 

Alec had spent the last two months attempting to make something that vaguely resembled pancakes. They had the same ingredients, but... Magnus was loath to call them pancakes. Eventually, Magnus had purchased a waffle maker, and (thankfully) Alec was able to use it. 

Could he just magic up a waffle? Yes (he was good at it, too). But Alec had been determined to learn to cook something without magic, and to see how happy he was when Magnus actually enjoyed what he had made was better than any other waffle in the world. No, universe. 

But Magnus was especially glad he had magic whenever Alec made breakfast, because he loved bringing it back to bed, and getting coffee, powdered sugar, waffle crumbs, strawberry juice and whipped cream all over the sheets was definitely less than optimal. 

Especially if they were going to get back into them immediately after (and get them messy in a different sense). 

* * *

_August 17th, 2004; Magnus’ penthouse_

“Magnus!” 

Someone knocked rapidly at his door, and Magnus peeked the slot in the door, seeing Jocelyn Fairchild carrying her daughter, Clarissa (who looked like a carbon copy of her mother. It was actually kind of scary). 

“Has it been a year already?” Magnus let them in, and Clary immediately clung tighter to her mother, scared of the unfamiliar place. 

Well, unfamiliar to her. As in, they were here regularly, just she couldn’t remember (now that he puts it that way, it sounds terrible. Talk about a tragic backstory). 

Magnus could play nice for a few minutes, he supposed. 

“Hello, biscuit.” He waved his fingers, conjuring up a stuffed bear and handing it to her. She took it hesitantly, then squeezed it to her chest. “Why don’t you go play with him for a bit, while your mother and I discuss some grown-up things?” 

Jocelyn sat her down in a chair in the kitchen, and the little girl nodded, still clutching the bear. 

“Are you still hellbent on keeping her away from the Shadow World?” Magnus had never approved of this plan, and the longer it went on, the worse he felt about it.

“Yes, it’ll keep her the safest.” Jocelyn stood her ground. “Her memories are starting to come back before we meet, though, and I think we’ll have to come back more frequently.” 

“And what if she encounters a demon? She’ll be safe then? What happens when Circle members find her mommy, and she doesn’t understand what’s happening?” Magnus lowered his glamour. “What happens when Shadowhunters find little baby Morgenstern? What happens to her then?” 

“They won’t,” Jocelyn snapped. “Are you going to help me or not, Magnus?” 

Magnus rolled his eyes. “Shadowhunters,” he scoffed. "Have you thought about the fact that they might not believe you because you're a Morgenstern? Because you were his wife? Because she is -"

A bang came from upstairs, and immediately Jocelyn ran to the kitchen to grab Clary, but she was no longer there. 

Magnus rolled his eyes again (did she forget she was with a warlock? _Shadowhunters_ , seriously) and portalled to where the sound came from - his closet. 

He entered to find Clary amidst a pile of clothes that she had pulled from their respective hangers, wobbling around in a pair of his heels. 

“Fairchild, take care of your - child!” Magnus picked Clary up and moved her out of her closet, heels and all. He began to put everything back, disgruntled. 

When Jocelyn finally made her way upstairs, Clary was still holding onto the bear, attempting (and failing) to run around in the too large heels, Magnus with his hands by her sides, ready to catch her.

* * *

_Undisclosed location; sometime in 1720_

“This is Peru all over again. Let’s go on an adventure, Ragnor. It will be so fun, Ragnor. Learning to live like mundanes! Without magic! In the outdoors! Experiencing the world!”

Ragnor leaned back on a large rock by the shore and groaned. “I lost my shoes! And now my feet are all muddy. And my clothes are ripped. Great idea, Magnus. So fun. A truly rewarding experience. Mundanes must have the best life.” 

And with that, a bird promptly pooped on his shoulder. 

Ragnor made another disgusted nose, but he had already reached his lowest point, so why react further?

“At least we’re spending more time together...?” Magnus at least had the grace to look sheepish. Granted, it was difficult to look at all confident when your entire outfit has been whittled down to a tunic and pants that were ripped unevenly at the bottom. And when you got into a fight with a river and you lost (okay, maybe just when a river steals your shoes). 

Ragnor ignored him and continued on his rant. “Why do I ever listen to your ideas? They never lead anywhere good! We should only do things I suggest; I am the intellectual in this friendship, after all. You never have good ideas.” 

Magnus looked down at his dirt-covered feet. “Ragnor, do you want to portal home?” 

Ragnor didn’t seem to hear him. “...going to have to walk all the way back up that damn hill, covered in water and mud and poop and sweat and who knows what else and have to be in front of other people in this state...” 

“Ragnor!”

“...could be at home, draped in jewels, drinking the finest wines, oh, imagine the _luxury_ , but no, that’s no good, Magnus wanted to be _adventurous_ , and do something _different_...”

“Ragnor!” 

“... so much dirt and sand, I’m breathing it in, and every time I swallow, I swear, I’m making mud...” 

“Ragnor!”

* * *

_Finocchio’s Club; January 17th, 1983_

Getting ready for a drag show was hard. 

There was the practicing - the dancing and singing and different personality, the attitude with which you need to walk and talk with, the confidence. And then there was the actual show prep - tucking and dressing and hair and makeup (side note, drag queens know the best makeup tips). And the outfit.

Oh, the _outfit._

A sequined, short, bodycon dress, that brought out his (fake) curves - sorry, _her_ curves, _Miss Mira’s curves_ \- paired with lace garters that rested at the middle of his thighs, and right on top of his black leather, thigh-high heels. 

Oh, yeah. 

Becoming Miss Mira was an arduous event, the entire get-up was uncomfortable, but the rush of being onstage, the welcoming and accepting community - it made it all worth it (also, he made a truly stunning woman, if he did say so himself).

* * *

_December 29th, 2016; Magnus’ penthouse_

Magnus and Catarina had a holiday tradition. 

More specifically, Catarina would show up at Magnus’ place after spending hours in the hospital, dealing with the idiocy that mundances get up to during the holiday season. The aftermath of it all left Catarina exhausted and needing to destress, and Magnus was eager to help. It involved a lot of massages and fuzzy slippers and indulgence and pampering and, recently, Brooklyn Nine-Nine. 

See, the two of them had tried to watch other TV shows together. But every medical drama they watched would end up with Catarina throwing popcorn at the television in frustration (much to the dissatisfaction of Magnus - he really enjoyed House M.D., and there was a reason they called Dr. Derek Shepherd McDreamy), shows that involved magic and demons resulted in them both throwing popcorn at the television in frustration, and so they turned to genres that did not involved anything they did professionally - legal and crime shows (there was still a little bit of popcorn throwing. Occasionally). 

So, difficult as it was, they would both hold off on watching the new season until December, and then gather together to gossip and watch the show while painting each others’ nails and gorging themselves on junk food ice cream. 

This year was no different. 

Catarina showed up, drained, and, as usual, filled with hilarious stories about what mundanes had tried this time, gruesome details of injuries she had seen, six different nail polishes, and a giant bag of Skittles. Magnus had rearranged the entire living room to fit a sectional, complete with throw blankets and pillows, and handed her a bellini before she collapsed on the couch. 

“You would not _believe_ the weird sex people get up to during the holidays.” Catarina slipped her feet into the fuzzy slippers Magnus had laid out for her and sipped her drink. “I had to pull _Christmas ornaments_ out of someone today. Ornaments! That cannot feel good.” 

“Ornaments, plural?” Catarina looked at him incredulously, and Magnus (smartly) shut up about the ornaments. “Didn’t you have to do that with a string of lights last year?” 

“No, that was the year before.” Catarina handed Magnus a dark blue nail polish with gold flakes inside of it as he settled down next to her, “Last year was a sausage.” She paused. “Don’t get any ideas, now.” 

“I assure you, my ideas are much more creative and much, much better.” Magnus handed her a makeup wipe and observed the nail polish. “You know, this colour is beautiful. Reminds me of someone.” 

“Yeah? Who?” 

“Alexander.” 

“Oh, right, tall, dark and handsome! The oldest Lightwood boy, right? You have to give me more details than ‘I crashed his wedding with his beard and he made out with me in front of his mother.’” Catarina looked at him expectantly. “That cannot be the full story.” 

“That is the full story! I flirted with him for a couple weeks, he got scared and decided the best way to avoid dealing with his emotions and gayness was to get engaged, and then I crashed the wedding and made out with him in front of everyone there. That’s the full story.” Magnus paused. “Wait, no, I didn’t crash the wedding. His sister invited me, so technically, I was just a terrible, unruly wedding guest who came late and ruined the wedding.” 

“A Shadowhunter, though? Really?” Catarina held out her hand and Magnus gave her a look before he got to work on her nails. Catarina raised her eyebrows. “How pretty is he?” 

“ _So_ pretty,” Magnus sighed. “And he’s sweet, and adorable.”

“Have you guys been on a date yet?” 

Magnus avoided her gaze (and her question) and flicked on the TV, and they settled in to watch and enjoy (and laugh at) Jake Peralta and Raymond Holt.

* * *

_An alley near the New York Institute; April 18th, 1993_

“Damn.” 

Magnus knew there was a reason he bought the combat boots. 

Okay, there were many reasons, but there was now an important reason why he bought the combat boots. Originally, he wanted them because he wanted to strut up and down the Institute, because there’s just a feeling of strength and power that comes with wearing combat boots (similar to heels, but significantly more comfortable). But now he had found the true upside of these shoes.

It was remarkably easy to wipe blood and slime and dust off of leather.

(Why did he work with Shadowhunters again?) 

(Oh, right. Centuries of systemic oppression. He wasn’t bitter. Was he bitter?) 

(He might be bitter.) 

Well, at least he could salvage these shoes. And strut to the Institute to strengthen the wards, because a demon should not have been able to get that close. 

(Shadowhunters, man.)

* * *

_Central Park; October 15th, 2017_

Magnus had never owned rain boots before.

He had also never owned bright pink Hello Kitty rain boots before, but Madzie had insisted they match. 

They were in Central Park with Catarina, and Madzie wanted to jump around in the puddles. As per usual, Catarina preferred to sit on the benches and watch Madzie play, and Magnus decided that he wanted to get in on the fun too. 

Running around in the rain was always fun, anyway. 

With spells in place to make sure Madzie (and Magnus, but he wasn’t going to admit it to Catarina) didn’t get sick, they sprinted around the park, looking for the deepest puddles to splash in. Madzie insisted that shallow puddles weren’t as fun as deep puddles, and so analyzing every puddle and how deep they thought it was made sure they were as efficient as possible. 

_Splash._

The rain soaked into their clothes, messed up their hair, the wind chilled them to their bones. But still, they continued running around the park.

_Splash._

The rain boots kept their feet dry, and they found and jumped in every puddle that was desirable enough to jump in, that Madzie had deemed splashable enough. 

_Splash._

* * *

_Brooklyn Mall; July 27th, 2018_

“Oh, look at these, aren’t they adorable?”

Izzy held a pair of lace-up ballet flats out in front of her, and before Magnus could turn around to tell her that yes, they were indeed adorable, she gasped. 

“Oh, my gosh, can I give you a makeover? Can I? Please? I’m your sister-in-law, you have to let me give you a makeover.” 

“Sister-in-law?” 

“I mean, you and Alec are practically married, I get to count as the sister-in-law by now. Makeover?” Izzy had grab him, and was shaking Magnus’ arm in excitement.

“Okay, okay, calm down!” Magnus laughed, and Izzy squealed before dragging Magnus across the shoe store.

“You know, you and Alec could get actually married so I would become your actual sister-in-law,” Izzy said nonchalantly as she looked through the shelves. 

“Okay, Isabelle, where is this coming from? Alexander and I haven’t even been together for that long.”

“But you guys are pretty much living together, and you both love each other, and work really well together, and mom is actually supportive of you now! Why don’t you just seal the deal and get married?”

Izzy looked up at Magnus, dumping 5 shoe boxes in his arms.

“Just think about it, okay?”

Magnus thought about it.

* * *

_September 2nd, 1976; Magnus’ penthouse_

“Bedazzler.” 

Magnus held out the appliance in question in one hand, and the pair of sneakers Catarina insisted he buy because “you need comfortable shoes, Magnus”. 

“You want to bedazzle your sneakers?”

“And your sneakers.”

“Magnus, couldn’t you just magic them on? And why would I put rhinestones on my sneakers? Wait, why do you want rhinestones on your sneakers?” 

Magnus held his sneakers up higher in answer. 

“Magnus, these are for doing errands, or training, or exercising - you don’t need them to be pretty.” 

Magnus clutched his chest. “You don’t know me at all.” He pretended to wipe away a tear. “I have to be pretty in every situation.” 

“Okay, fine, let’s get to work.”

* * *

_New York Institute; March 13th, 2019_

Magnus had a flair for the dramatics.

Actually, that was probably an understatement, Magnus thought as he walked down the aisle. 

Down the aisle in the wrong direction.

Man, he really loved the dramatics. 

He and Alec had just been told that they could kiss, and he had turned on the heel of his dark purple dress shoes and briskly walked away from him. 

Almost everyone attending the wedding looked horrified; Izzy was trying to hold back her giggles from her best (wo)man position next to Alec, and Alec just rolled his eyes. 

Magnus turned around when he was about halfway down the aisle and quirked an eyebrow at Alec. 

Alec rolled his eyes again, and then begrudgingly went down a step off the platform. And another. And another. All the while looking directly at Magnus.

Magnus was having some serious déjà vu, but he did bring it on himself. Alec was starting to laugh, though, ruining the serious illusion of the memory. 

Maryse squeezed Alec’s hand as he walked down the aisle, and by the time Alec got to Magnus, they were both laughing too hard to actually kiss. Alec was holding Magnus by his jacket lapels, and they were just giggling against each other’s mouths. 

“Hey, you two, could you hurry it up?” Jace called across the room. “I walk in on you guys making out all the time, I know you two know how to do more than kiss. Kissing should be easy for you guys.” 

Magnus was the one who rolled his eyes this time, and whispered, “You want to show him how to kiss, husband?” 

Alec pulled him in closer, and kissed his husband for the first time. And then the second. And then the third. 

“Okay, okay, we get it, wrap it up! We don’t need or want to see the honeymoon now.” Jace interrupted the newlyweds again, and this time, both of them rolled their eyes. 

Alec pulled back slightly and looked at Magnus. “Hello, husband.” (Husband. He had a _husband_.)

They burst into laughter again, and their friends and family gathered around them, congratulating them and laughing about the ridiculous stunt they had just pulled (many people hit him for scaring them, and while Izzy and Jace were strong, they had nothing next to Lydia). 

* * *

_November 8th, 2018; Hunter’s Moon_

“What have you got there?” 

Maia was currently pouring Magnus’ drink as he sat at the bar, swinging his bootie-clad feet and fiddling with something in his hands. 

Magnus held it out to her. “Take a look for yourself.” 

“Oh, man, is that what I think it is?” Maia grinned. “Guess someone’s been giving a lot more gifts than you expected, huh? Congrats, Magnus.” 

Magnus smiled and slipped the engagement ring back on his finger. “Yeah, I somehow got roped into having a gold wedding with a Shadowhunter. By mistake, of course.”

“Of course,” Maia replied. “You also definitely crashed his wedding by mistake. And kissed him by mistake. And fell on his dick by mistake. Wow, you’re so clumsy, Magnus.” 

“Oh, yes, silly me,” Magnus laughed. “It was just _right there_ , and it was most certainly an accident. Whoops!” 

“When’s the big day? Where are you guys having it?” 

“Not sure of either of them yet, but I know Alec and Maryse are both dead set on it being held in the Institute,” Magnus rolled his eyes. “Alec is butting a lot of heads with the Clave.” 

“Do you want it in the Institute?” Maia gave him a look. “It’s your wedding too.”

“Well, it’s certainly not perfect.” Magnus took a sip of his drink. “But hey, you know what, I’ve spent this long annoying the crap out of the Clave. And now I’m marrying a Shadowhunter. A _male_ Shadowhunter, at that. I might as well go all out, you know?” 

Maia laughed. “Cheers to that.”

* * *

_March 24th, 2020; Magnus’ penthouse_

Magnus held them in his hands for the better part of half an hour before he worked up the courage to talk to Alec. 

“Hey, Alexander?”

Alec poked his head out of the bedroom door. “Yes? I’m trying to put the baby down.”

“Yeah, about that... I know we’re only taking care of him temporarily, but I bought some things for him.” Magnus had his fidgeting hands held behind his back, flicking his eyes between Alec’s and the floor. 

Alec walked towards him. “You mean besides the crib, and the blankets, and the clothes, and the gazillion stuffed animals?”

"Um... yes?"

Alec raised his eyebrows.

“Well, they said that the baby was about a year old, and I was doing some research, and apparently babies are supposed to start learning to walk around then so...” Magnus held out his hands. 

In them was a pair of baby shoes. 

“They’re supposed to be the best for learning how to walk and - I know, I’m getting too attached, and I'm not supposed to, but - ”

Alec shushed Magnus by putting his finger to Magnus’ lips. “I think I’m getting too attached too.”

“Yeah, you want a little warlock?” 

“Yeah. I want a little warlock.”

**Author's Note:**

> wow how do people write so many words this took me so so long to write plus I procrastinated oh my god this is why all my other fics are under 500 words 
> 
> yell at me on [tumblr](http://www.storytellerandstorytold.tumblr.com)? also tell me if I should change my URL to mrandmrlightwoodbane


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